Date: Thu, 17 Jan 2013 19:52:25 +0000
From: Joe Ferns <alohareaders@gmail.com>
Subject: Blind Faith

Me and a friend wrote this by passing it back and forth for our own
entertainment.  We enjoyed it so decided to send it in for you guys to
enjoy.  Or not.  We hope you'll stick with it for a few chapters.

Blind Faith
Chapter 1:  Wild Ride

Peter was thirteen. There had been a time when he would have climbed
into that cable car without a second thought. So what if there were a
few loose bolts? Nothing could go wrong when he was on board. Maybe
later there would be some tragic story in the papers and dad would
look over the top of it and say 'lucky you weren't aboard that one,
son'.
But Peter had hit thirteen.
The balls had dropped, the cock had grown and he had passed out with
his first cum. And suddenly life changed. He looked at himself
differently when he stared into the mirror. He looked at other boys
differently and tried not to look at other boys in the school showers
in case they noticed. And he now believed firmly that if the wheels
were coming off the wagon they were bound to come off when he was
aboard. It's called growing up.

And then he met Joey.
"Come here in the singles line?" he offered. "It moves a lot faster".
Peter would have ignored him but for Joey lifting his hand to his
forehead, brushing the hair away from his eyes, flashing a seventeen
year old confident smile all the while. It was the eyes that did it,
mesmerized him. Being thirteen had turned Peter into a hardnosed
skeptic, trusting nobody but himself, and yet the next minute found
him in the singles line behind Joey. True to his prediction, they
passed the slow line and got to the front within ten minutes flat.
There was a commotion in the slow lane, a girl chickening out at the
last second. Joey grabbed Peter by the hand and pulled him towards the
waiting empty car. They hopped in.

This is when he should be checking for ill-fitting parts, loose bolts,
worn clips. Except Joey took the initiative, strapping him in,
brushing his hand over Peter's crotch in the process. And lingering
there. Or did Peter only imagine it? Involuntarily he sucked in his
breath. Joey clicked in the latch, then strapped himself in. Peter's
heart was racing a hundred fifty beats per minute, and their car
hadn't even started moving yet. Joey flashed him another smile.
"OK there buddy? By the way, I'm Joey."

Peter accepted Joey's hand, unsure, speechless, suspended in some time
warp. When the car started moving Joey still did not let go of his
hand, only squeezed harder. The car climbed higher and higher,
relentlessly. Peter felt dizzy, gripped the restraining bar with his
free hand, closing his eyes. Involuntarily he returned the squeeze of
Joey's hand; it reassured.

Peter's confusion mounted as the car hurtled through space. He liked
the way he was being 'mothered', cared for by the older boy. At the
same time he felt that he ought to be asserting his independence,
demonstrating that he was not just some scared-shitless kid. The
dilemma distracted him from the horror of the ride - or, to be fairer,
his premonition of disaster. He relaxed. As he eased the grip within
Joey's hand and let the tension flow from his body, he turned to smile
at his new companion. Joey grinned back at him, again that mesmerizing
smile, again the flash within the eyes.

Joey drew Peter's hand down, down into his lap, until Peter's fingers
grazed across the tightly stretched denim of Joey's pants. It was the
kind of action that meant nothing and yet, in that instant, to Peter,
aged thirteen, it meant everything. Once more he glanced up to catch
his new friend's expression. He was young still and found it hard to
read what he saw there.

The roller-coaster ride had never been this long, never this short. It
was over almost before it started, before Peter had even looked down
from its dizzying height. And yet, for a moment, time had stood still.
The frozen snapshot of Joey's eyes holding him captive, as captive as
their hands clenched together, was still etched before him while the
car braked to a stop and impatient girls waited for them to get out.
He was in a daze as Joey unbuckled him and helped him up and out of
the vehicle. Peter was unsure of his footing, almost tripped as he
stepped out, stumbling into Joey's chest. Joey held him fast, the one
solid pillar in the world spinning around him.

"Cool ride eh?" grinned Joey, supporting him by the elbow. Peter
straightened himself, tore his eyes away from Joey's, reasserting his
sense of direction. The ground was down, the exit to his right. He put
one foot in front of the other, mechanically almost, escaped from the
ride's corral, Joey at his heels.
"By the way, I didn't get your name?"
"Peter" said Peter.

He stood there at the exit from the ride, uncertain about what to do
next. Joey had moved away with a confident, loping stride. His eyes
followed the retreating figure while his brain still turned and
tumbled as if he was still on that ride. Peter was neither timid nor
shy but this was outwith his experience. In a group of boys his own
age he would tag along, being careful to remain within the pack. He
had never before even considered trooping along with an older boy. The
prospect was ...

... Peter paused to think. Awesome, he supposed. Joey turned to look
back. He thrust his hand into the pockets of his jeans.
"You coming or not?" he asked.
Peter hesitated. That was the moment he was supposed to look Joey in
the face. But lifting his gaze off the ground, Peter never got higher
than Joey's crotch. You could hardly blame him. Joey was sporting a
monster erection, barely contained within the confines of his jeans.
He didn't mind Peter staring.
"Always gets me high, the rollercoaster, every which way."

Just then a girl put a hand on Joey's shoulder, spinning him around.
She looked at least Joey's age, but tiny by comparison, an emaciated
spider.
"What is big like a gorilla and fucks like a Mink?" she asked.
"Huh?" was all Joey could reply.
"You and me" she answered.
He grinned at her.
"I got a date already," Joey answered. His glance was in Peter's
direction. "Him and me are going for some fizz and grease."
With that, Joey faced Peter directly and with his hands still in his
pockets he hoisted his jeans. The effect was to make the contours of
his engorged cock even more prominent.
"You coming, squirt?"
Peter's mind was made up and he hastened to join his new friend. Joey
grinned and threw his arm round Peter's shoulder.

"Okay if I tag along?" she asked. Her voice was friendly enough but
the expression on her face made Peter feel uncomfortable.
"Sure," replied Joey in a very off-hand way as he and Peter moved off
in the direction of the food stalls. Joey pointed out an empty picnic
table.
"Bag that one for us," he ordered while he headed off to get the snacks.

Peter did as he was told. The girl hesitated and then followed Peter
with a determined look in her eye. They sat opposite each other.
"You're not ... like ... his kid brother or anything ...?"
"We just met ... " stammered Peter. "He ... Joey ... he ..."
But he fell silent. There was no way he was going to admit that he had
been standing there at the roller-coaster, nervous about getting on
but not wanting to weasel out. Somehow it was OK that Joey knew that
but no way was he telling her. She looked at him curiously, her eyes
narrowing. Peter could see that her mind was working. Her lips moved,
as if she was about to pose another question. But none came.

Joey came back with the food. Bottles of coke and a big plastic tray
of fries covered in sauce. The girl looked at the sauce with
suspicion.
"What's that?" she asked, pointing at the fries and her lip curling in disgust.
"It's a kinda mayo dressing only with punch."
"They not have ketchup?"
"We don't like ketchup," retorted Joey with a wink in Peter's
direction. "Us boys prefer something with a bit of zap!"
"Eh, kiddo?" said Joey, looking for confirmation while he squeezed
himself in beside Peter on the bench.
Peter nodded but said nothing, instead cramming a fistful of fries
into his mouth. They were HOT; both kinds of hot! Peter grabbed the
coke bottle and took a slurp.
"God! Guys! You boys can be so dis - gusting!"
Joey and Peter looked at each other while they chewed and nodded their
agreement. Then they laughed.

"Joe, babes, go get me something sweet. Please? I can't eat them
things. Please?"
Shaking his head, Joey pried himself back up. Although he tried not to
glance in that direction Peter could still see the outline clearly in
Joey's tight denim. She noticed too; the contour rather than Peter's
surreptitious glance. She smiled now as if to say 'he is pleased to
see me'.

"Time you was off home to bed, squirt?" she said. She managed to
inflect a question mark to lessen the command. Peter blushed, took
another swig of the coke and made as if to rise. It was then that Joey
came back. He tossed a candy bar across to the girl and pressed on
Peter's shoulders.
"You going somewhere, kiddo?"
"I ... well, maybe I thought ... maybe I should go ..."
"It's his bedtime," she supplied helpfully. Joey looked Peter in the eye.
"Huh! No way, buster! We got that other ride to do yet! Or you
chickening out?" As he said this Joey started to flap his elbows and
make clucking noises. Again the pair of them laughed and again they
fell to, stuffing fries into their mouths.

"You guys been on the zipper yet?" asked the Mink, changing tack.
"No way" blurted out Peter.
'Let's all do the zipper, right now" she suggested, a wicked smile on her face.
"What's the hurry? We're eating." asserted Joey.
"Bop, bop-bop-bob" replied the girl, flapping her wings and
alternately sticking out her chin and breast provocatively.
"Eat your chocolate" snarled Joey.

Peter had been on the zipper once.  Last year. Never again, he had
vowed to himself. The thing hoisted you up and zipped you down in
violent spasms, spinning you like a top at the ends. His mate next to
him had thrown up. Both had discovered bruises on themselves the next
day, in the most unlikely of places. The contraption was masochism on
wheels, invented by some evil sadist. But he wasn't going to back down
in front of the little twerp.

"Let's go zip" Peter said, screwing up his courage and getting on his
feet as Joey stuffed the last of the fries in his mouth. Joey's only
reply was to reach for the coke and wash the greasy mess down his
gullet.

"Alright!" answered the girl brightly, then reached over to grasp
Joey's balls. Fries, coke and yellow grease sprayed out of his mouth.
 Turning to Peter, she shrugged and said, "Just checking he's man
enough."
"I think we can all see that clear enough," replied Peter with a sneer.
"That's my boy!" exclaimed Joey springing to his feet and hefting his
pants which had the effect of confirming Peter's assertion.  "Let's go
zip!"
Throwing his arm around Peter's shoulder he guided the kid off in the
direction of the torture machine.  Hands on hips the Mink watched them
go.  She was undecided about whether to follow them or not; was Joey
trying to get rid of her or was he just teasing her, provoking her to
go further?  Still unsure, she followed the two guys.
Just being with Joey had given Peter confidence, but Joey's praise had
set his heart thudding in his chest.  Up until then he had felt a bit
like the kid whom Joey had taken pity on.  Now he felt more like a
buddy.
The 'zip' looked more fearsome than ever but Peter never quailed.
Before this, he would have stood staring at the contraption for a long
time, like a gymnast gathering concentration for a vault.  With an eye
as keen as an engineer's he would have examined the structure from top
to bottom.  He would have scrutinized the guys manning the show,
gauging how competent they looked, how likely that they had carried
out all safety checks.  But this time?  He strode forward with his new
friend without a second thought.
He and Joey climbed in but before they could belt themselves in the
Mink squeezed in beside them.
"Wait up, guys!" she cried.
"Three of yous?" queried the guy taking the money.  "Fine.  There's a
lap-belt for the guy in the middle."
Peter watched the other two harness themselves in.  Then Joey reached
for the lap-belt and handed it across to the Mink who plugged Peter in
securely.  Not trusting her, Peter gave the belt a tug.
"Nervous, kiddo?" she smiled.  And then she planted her hand
reassuringly on his knee.  A second later the ride started and with
that her hand slid up his thigh and then closed firmly around his
balls.  "You'll be fine," she hissed.
With their cage starting to slide up the zipper and his balls in the
Mink's grip, Peter felt that premonition in the pit of his stomach. He
was going to be sick. If it had been Joey's hand there instead, would
it have been different? Who knows? The question was entirely academic,
as their cage made the sudden flip at the end of the zipper, turning
them upside down and ejecting the contents of his stomach. Chewed up
fries, hot sauce and soda pop all sprayed out of his mouth in one
unholy mess.
"Ewg!" gasped the Mink, retracting her hand in horror.
"Whoah there!" said Joey.
Peter said nothing. His stomach was still churning, out came the
second wave. It was all he could do to lean forward and eject most of
the mess outside the cage as it sped down the zipper.
The cage hurtled down.  Something was wrong, very wrong, for Peter too
was hurtling forward.  As he felt his stomach heave in discomfort he
also became aware that the pressure had gone, the restraint had eased.
 He was no longer strapped securely in place.  In a second the thought
flashed across his mind.  She had undone the strap.  She had released
his lap-belt.
Then he felt himself swept up, scooped from the edge of disaster as
strong arms enfolded him, grasped him tight and drew him close.  He
let go a deep breath and glanced up.  He saw a broadly beaming grin.
Joey's teeth flashed white as he laughed.
"You're okay, kid, I got you."
It was then that Peter knew something had changed.  He wasn't in love.
 He was thirteen and thirteen doesn't do love.  But something changed
all the same.  His admiration for Joey, his fascination, his
hero-worship, changed into something deeper.  He became an acolyte.
He worshiped now where before he had had mere fancy.  He became the
puppy that would follow the master into the very jaws of hell,
oblivious to his own fate.  He would follow without question, without
doubt.
It was a bedraggled trio that emerged from the cage.  The roustabout
set to with mop and pail without comment or complaint.  Clearly he was
used to 'zippers' unloading mid-flight.  The Mink was moaning and
frowning and staring in distaste at her vomit-soaked left slipper.
The two boys on the other hand took deep breaths, looked at each other
and burst into a sustained peal of raucous laughter.
"You look like a bad Sunday morning after a better than usual Saturday night!"
The boys examined the damage.  Curiously Peter was least affected;
there was a dribble still, adhering to his chin, a few globs on his
t-shirt and his trainers were damp and would smell worse than usual.
But Joey was like he'd been used to create a Tracy Emin art
installation.  The morning after the ride before.
"We need to clean up, mate," announced Joey unnecessarily.  Throwing
his arm across Peter's shoulder he steered the boy in the direction of
the fairground toilets.  The Mink had stomped off to the nearest bench
and sat there scowling as she used a paper serviette to remove her
left slipper.
"What about ....?" began Peter, as he glanced backward.
"Och, ignore her.  The bitch.  We got man's work to do."

The boys stood in the makeshift toilets.  Using a clutch of blue paper
from a roll on a bench Joey cleaned Peter up.  An old guy was pissing
into the trough at the far end.  He chuckled as he peed and, looking
over his shoulder, he said, "Big zipper, boys?"
They nodded.
As he zipped up he smiled and remarked, "Thought so.  Like they say,
been there, done that."
Once he had gone Peter started on the Joey clean-up.  The big problem
was that when Joey had rescued Peter and clasped him tight, a great
load of sick had been deposited in Joey's lap.  Peter stood there with
the blue paper.
"That ain't gonna wipe off," he remarked with a shake of his head.
"Off they come then," replied Joey.  As he unbuckled his belt and slid
down his fly zipper, he jerked his head in the direction of the
faucet.  "OK, I'll look like I peed myself but you'd better run some
water over them."
Peter stared as Joey shucked off his denims and handed them over.
"What?" asked Joey.  "You seen something funny?"
"No, no," protested Peter quickly, turning a little red.
"I should hope not.  This is all me.  I don't do cucumber in the tighties."
"But what if somebody comes in?"
"It's a fucking men's room, Pee-brain.  What you expect to find in a
men's room?"
"Cock, I suppose," quipped Peter with a grin.
"Et voila!" replied Joey, spreading his hands.
Peter went across to the faucet with a lightness in his step.  He had
just thrown up on the zipper.  He had just thrown up all over his new
mate.  He was at that tender age of adolescence when a boy is
super-sensitive to getting things wrong and puking over somebody is
about as 'getting it wrong' as you can get!  And yet there was a
singing inside his chest and airiness in his tread.  He was happy,
relaxed in his new friendship and secure.  Who knew where this might
go?  Peter didn't.  He had no experience to call on.  It was an
unexpected turning in the road.  A path had suddenly appeared,
diverging from the highway, curving into the trees.  Peter didn't care
where it would lead him.  He was content to set off into the unknown.